


Make My Wish Come True

by italktoomuch



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:06:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5110805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/italktoomuch/pseuds/italktoomuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Office Christmas parties can make Katniss a right old Grinch until a slightly jealous and possessive Peeta comes. Sort of a combo of jealousy and lust. Rated something, I don’t know… M? (I don’t usually do ratings, can you tell?) for smut. (You have been warned… even if it was in a less than concise way.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make My Wish Come True

Make my wish come true…

“Rocking around the Christmas tree ha-”

I groan and throw my eyes up before closing them, slowly letting my eyelids fall over and sinking into the darkness. I’m sick of Christmas songs. I’m sick of the noise, I’m sick of how much my feet hurt, I’m sick of pretending to have a good time.

The last few years I’ve dreaded the office Christmas party, and this year it seems to be extra awful.

Everyone is chattering loudly around me, and I pretend to smile along with them, not listening to a word anyone has said. The ring and chime of the same twenty festive songs is too loud for me too, and while I know without them Christmas wouldn’t be the same, I am in dire need of something without jingle bells or the mention of snow.

My hand rests on my glass, the twinkling lights reflecting on its side. This, I have to admit, I don’t mind; fairy lights. Although I don’t get why they are called that…? Urgh. Everything about tonight just isn’t sitting right with me, I am apparently going to find fault with it all.

And I know it’s because he’s not here yet.

I twirl my wedding band with my other fingers, the smooth silver comforting on my skin and lessening my irritation slightly. He couldn’t make the meal because of work – the bakery is always manic at this time of the year – but he said he’d make it later, our company not all that big that plus ones are more than welcome, for drinks. At nine… no nine thirty. I look at my watch. 7:44pm. I can make it until then. If I grit my teeth… and someone plays a different playlist, God dammit.

*

“Hey, Catnip.”

I snort and turn to face Gale, one of my closest, longest friends. We started working here at the same time, but in different departments. On that first day I went to lunch and didn’t know a single person, so sat alone. He plopped down across from me, a relieved smile on his face.

“Thank God I’m no longer the new guy around here. I’m Gale, Finance.”

He was confident and a little cocky, but it was fine by me. “Katniss, Quality Assurance.”

“Nice to meet you, Catnip,” he’d smiled, looking amused.

It took me a week to tell him my name was Katniss, but by then the nickname had stuck.

“Hi, Gale.”

He breaks into a grin when he sees my face. Being friends for so long now, it’s hard to hide anything between us, and he knows even with my plastered on smile, that I am not fully enjoying myself.

“Shut up, I was getting away with it with everyone else,” I scowl, knowing even that wasn’t exactly true after the look Effie shot me just minutes before as I had looked passed her, muttering something about manners. Again, I wasn’t really listening.

He just shakes his head, and looks at his watch for me. “He said nine-thirty, it’s barely ten past.”

“I knoooow,” I whine childishly and he only smiles wider.

“Well, tell that to your eyes. My right shoulder can’t be that interesting.”

Instead of looking back at him immediately, I roll them in a full circle and then deliberately lock his gaze. “Happy?”

He laughs. “Ecstatic.”

I purse my lips and take a sip of my soda. “You know I hate these things.”

He shifts his weight and leans an arm on the bar beside us, setting down his beer. “Hey the first few years weren’t that bad. Me and you, and Annie, Finnick, Jo, Peeta,” my lips twitch at his mention, “we used to have a great time.”

“Yeah… when we were young.“ He shoots me a look that tells me to shut up; that twenty-eight and thirty are plenty young. “Fine, younger. And reckless. But Jo got that other job and you jumped for joy cause then you two could date without all the work politics, Finnick and Annie moved away and got all settled, and I can’t drink my way through this one with you like that first year.”

My hand cups the underside of my stomach, round and full through my long, black dress. I’ll be six months in just over a week.

Gale smiles at me gently. “You can’t… but I certainly can.” He tips his beer at me and brings it to his lips. I push him as he does, the liquid spilling out of his mouth as he stumbles and laughs at the same time at my pout.

“Sorry, not sorry, Catnip.”

“I hate you.”

He takes a proper swig this time, and I tiptoe as far as I can to peak over his shoulder, searching for Peeta. Still nothing.

“So, I … I got that promotion.”

I feel my mouth fall open, and watch as Gale tries not to beam and scratches the back of his neck. I’m not surprised he got it, but shocked that I didn’t ask, that I forgot all about it.

“Shit, Gale, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot, but I don’t know how I could’ve and – “

He places a hand on my arm. “Jesus, Katniss, it’s okay, it’s just a job.”

I shake my head. “It’s not just a job, I know how much you wanted it. Congratulations.” I reach up and wrap my arms around him. His steady around my waist, not reaching as far round as they used to, but they are warm and solid on me.

When I pull back, I look up and my eyes meet his and I feel my lips stretch wide the closer he gets to us. “Peeta.”

His jaw is set, and his gaze burns mine. I feel like I could melt, and I want to throw myself into him right now. Oh, God he looks damn fine in his silver grey suit, sculptured on to his body perfectly. I want to drag him away back home and let him do whatever he wants to me. I have felt like this whenever he is near for the last few months.

He slips his hand around my waist easily, and I can feel his fingers press into my back, firm and solid and I am so glad he is here. “Hey,” he breathes softly against my ear, his lips and nose brushing at my neck. I secure my arm around him, my fingers latching on to the silken material of his jacket.

He reaches his other hand out. “Gale,” he smiles, but I see something lingering in his eyes, and with his hand on me, I smirk when I realise it to be almost jealous, possessive.

More people come over to mingle and talk with Peeta, who has always gotten on so well with my colleagues, and to congratulate Gale. I observe most from the side-lines, hungrily watching Peeta laugh and talk and listen to everyone, seeing him exude happiness. But I enjoy it much more when we both catch the other staring, dark eyes and longing sighs, tongues sweeping across lips and jaws tight in frustration.

I want to kiss him. I want to kiss him and not have a reason or will to stop. Where is the damn mistletoe when you need it?

I lose him to the crowd briefly and I turn my back, watching my fingers trace up the condensation of my glass, hoping it will cool me down. Without success. The coil within me tightens and I feel his presence behind me, sweeping to me, his strong chest against my back and his fingertips trailing up my arm. He breathes in my hair and I close my eyes as he speaks, his voice low, commanding and desperate all at the same time.

“Can we get out of here, please?”

I nearly growl in feral satisfaction. “Yes,” is all I manage to sigh, turning and placing a hand on his chest to push him back with me. My hand slips into his, I grip it tightly and start to stride away from the room.

I pull him through doors and wind through corridors until we reach a deserted suite. The door opens easily under his hand and once inside, he closes it behind him, the lock clicking into place and his hands pulling me by my hips into him.

“Oh thank fuck,” I mumble against his lips, before they meet his. I feel him chuckle, rumbling deep in his throat and his lips smile wickedly against mine, before he pulls me closer. I whimper as his tongue sweeps passed my lips, and my fingernails drag through his hair, pulling at the ends. Our mouths move greedily and quickly, our breaths panting into each other.

I can feel him harden and press against my thigh, my clit pulses, my hips pressing into him with a low, needy moan and my hands fumbling blindly at his belt.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” he breathes against me, his hands pushing down at the sleeves of my dress after his complement, pulling it off of my shoulders and spilling my breasts free. His lips don’t leave my skin as he trails down, torturously slowly away from my lips sloppily, down to my jaw and neck. He lavishes the sweet spot between my throat and collar bone, sucking and grazing his teeth there, where I know he will leave a mark but I accept it happily, holding him with one hand on the crown of his head, securing him to me, the other pushing at his jacket.

When he reaches my shoulder he moves me, so now my back is pressed against the door and not him; both dominating in equal amounts. He continues his trail down, reaching neither of my breasts, which are straining for him, my back keening towards him. Instead his lips caress down between my cleavage, his eyes smirking up at me while I squirm beneath his mouth. I’m undoing the last button and tugging off his shirt before he moves his mouth to the right, circling around my nipple before his tongue flattens over it.

One hand claws at his back, nails digging into his flesh, while the other frantically reaches for his pants.

“Peeta…” I’m breathless and quieter than I intended to be, but he hears, pulling back with a devilish smile.

I think he might prolong this, let me suffer as though I haven’t been craving him all night, desperately wanting him. But then he pulls back slightly, his hands replacing mine on his pants, pulling them and his boxers down together, and letting his hard cock spring free.

I wet my lips, my tongue feeling thicker in my mouth, heat and desire pooling between my legs. I watch as he stiffens further, and his hand encloses around his shaft. I break my gaze, and start to push off the rest of my dress to join his clothes on the floor.

Freed of my clothes and kicking them away from our feet, my hands reach for the sides of Peeta’s face, my thumbs stroking over his cheeks. He reaches out too, his long eyelashes ghosting his skin as he looks down to where we press together, his hands on my hips and his thumbs stroking over my belly. I let a hand drop, reaching down to close over his shaft, my thumb pressing lightly over his tip. A growl, too desperate and achy to wait, escapes my throat as my hips jut instinctively into him. He groans, the sound only millimetres from me, our lips so close but not quite touching.

“Please, Peeta. I want you to fuck me.” My voice is a deep whisper and there is no question in my words.

His eyes close over and flutter open again, he nods silently, his eyes darkening and becoming possessive again. I feel a lurch of my stomach and I need him now. When he turns me to face the door, I comply easily, my hands pressing against the wood panelling, as he holds me around my middle, a hand on my waist and the other over the front of my stomach.

He pauses a moment, and I whine, pushing my butt back.

And then I feel him. He teases at first, but only briefly, coating himself in my arousal before he pushes into me. I gasp and sigh, or do something in between them both as I finally feel him inside me. He feels so wonderful, we feel so wonderful together, and when he starts to set a rhythm, slowly at first and then picking up the pace deliciously, I stop biting my lip and don’t hold back my cries of brilliant pleasure as he hits me at precisely the right angle with every pound into me.

He grunts at my ear, and tugs away my hair to the one side of my neck, letting his lips nuzzle against the exposed skin. I let one hand drop, reaching for my clit, throbbing and so sensitive with the slightest touch. I shoot towards stars and white light bolts through my limbs. I jerk, my body spasming uncontrollably, Peeta’s arms my anchor, steadying me, holding me up and letting me ride out my orgasm before melting into a puddle. His hips snap, his rhythm becoming staccato and erratic. I can feel him twitch and grunt more and more as I come back to Earth. And with one final thrust, he pauses, spilling into me, warm and with a breathless groan, sounding slightly like my name, twitching still for a few moments more before he sighs, dropping another light kiss to my shoulder and pulling me close, pressing his chest to my back as I stand fully and he pulls out of me.

“I love you,” he says softly. “I love you.”

Turning to face him, I place my hands back on his face, thumbs back under where his eyelashes would dust lightly. Gently, I bring my lips to his, letting them touch and fade away in a simple kiss. “I love you too.”

My hands feed into his hair, sweaty and mussed up, pushing it back from his forehead. His trace me too, his fingertips over the bow of my lips, along the lines of my neck and passed my sides, until they find their home over the skin stretching with our child.

“Y’know, I kind of like jealous Peeta.”

He opens his mouth to protest but stops at my smirk, the tips of his ears tinging red. “I kind of like horny Katniss.”

“Can we go home now… this time with slow, gentle Peeta?”

Now he smirks. “And less commanding Katniss?”

I swat his arm, smiling grudgingly and rolling my eyes, but reaching for my clothes. “Maybe. It might need to be your Christmas present though.” But, satisfied for now at least, I’m happy to have him any which way I can, so I keep smiling as we dress, until I throw my arm in his and practically skip home.

“That’s fine by me; all I want for Christmas is you.”


End file.
